Posts Tagged ‘Life’

Humans are made of all sorts,
A host of exotic ingredients,
Sugar spice and some things not so nice,
Herbs and poisons,
Garlic and cyanide,
Ore and gemstones,
Don’t forget the dead flesh,

The recipe isn’t always followed,
Or perhaps one doesn’t exist,
No human is a carbon copy,
The ingredients act in flux,
The outcome always a coin toss,
Sometimes an angel emerges from the hearth,
Other times a devil.

We are spawned as a blank slate,
With no rhyme or reason,
A doll not yet painted,
A straw fetish not yet burned,
We’re a biological puzzle,
A mutable disasterpiece,

We shift and grow over the years,
Mutated by our experiences,
Adapting bodily to lifes toils,
Given hardier scales after each betrayal,
Sharper talons and fangs for every struggle,
Sprouting wings to follow our dreams,

Each of us adapts differently,
The beauty and horror of nature,
Decade after decade,
And trial after challenge,
We keep evolving,
Until we finally go extinct.

We are all sculptors,
Did you know this?
Tooth and chisel in hand,
Toiling to fashion a statue of ourselves,
Not in mundane physicality,
But a simulacrum of our internal selves,
Every facet of life made mineral,
Family and romance and profession,

The variety of works will be awesome,
Many will create perfect forms of marble,
A model sculpture of a model existence,
Something for others to muse over,
Some may be sloppily cut from rough material,
Rashly hewn by a being in woe,
A life and potential unfulfilled,
Not all souls prove picturesque,

The scale of each monument scales,
Our tenures are not all equal,
And death is a sacrosanct deadline,
When you take your last breath,
The sculpture is complete,
The great work is done,
A remnant of a life for all to see,
To marvel at or chastise.

Is fate real?
Or is everything on a whim?
Is the story already penned?
Or are we toys for an impulsive child?
Not so much a puppet master,
But a dark conductor,

Randomly arranging the winds of life,
With thorny baton waved wildly,
Music sheets flung from the podium,
Picking from an orchestra of painful instruments,
Which beat to batter us with next,
The tempo of disasters and heartbreaks,

Perhaps not fully malicious,
But certainly uncaring,
I know not which,
The results remain the same of course,
A terrible life of a song,
Made up of misery.

Life is an abuser,
And it follows a pattern of cruelty,
So ingrained is this spite set in stone,
That I can only shrug in response,
Whilst I try to collect the stuffing,
Torn from my teddy bear heart,
My marbles,
Knocked loose by another blow,
Followed by the jeers of existence,
When words fail me,
Or simply refuse to materialize,
I can only shrug,

It’s just the way of things,
A rigid modus operandi,
Life doesn’t pick favourites,
I’m sure all of our shoulders grow tired,
From all of the torture,
From all of the shrugging.

This blue planet,
It’s a churning sea of uncertainty,
One we wade through without aid,
Painted in scenic coral yes,
But rife with predatory affairs,
Dogfish of hardship nipping at our shins,
Betrayals with white-tip fins,
Megalodon’s of trauma,

Sharks swim these waters,
Careful where you tread water,
These annals of the world,
The planet can strike without warning,
Tear you heart from fin,
A struggle of swell and weeping,
This planet has teeth,
It smells blood on the current,

And like seals we are prey.

Assembling a life is no meagre feat,
Let me tell you,
These are not simple machines,
Their intricacies are myriad,

To form a working product,
It will take the heavy industry of your actions,
Sweat blood and ore,
There is no prototype phase,

You’ve got one shot,
Only one budget of heartbeats exists,
So solder your connections wisely,
And god forbid any bolts are loose,

Too many are already upon the scrapheap,
That pile of obsolescence.

It was unclear what invoked this detonation,
The world has many stray matches,
A look,
A word,
A revelation,
But erupt it did nonetheless,

All I can glimpse is burning confetti,
Metal shards of a man,
Sharp as a tongue of a soul in pain,
The heat feels like tar on the skin,
As if I can touch the heartache in its mucus,
Munitions from a heart and mind imploded,

But observe,
Those piles of singed petals and broken glass,
That is what it looks like,
When a life becomes shrapnel,
Reduced to a sorry wreckage,
No phoenix here.

I can’t keep that beeping out of my head,
That incessant crying,
The trilling of the heartbeat monitor,
Forced on when my heart was trod on,
Decibels striking my thoughts with scourges,
A result of things gone wrong,

That flatline,
Blades across eardrums,
But the bleeding has ceased,
Flesh is replaced with stone,
A warm soul is now calcified,
Heartache has given rise to blizzards,

I shed my person suit,
This is the demise of that former quintessence,
This war has made me cold,
Now it’s every man for himself,
Now let me embrace some chaos,
Now I embrace that beep.

I find myself shuffling through life,
Forced to play this card game again,
I’m exhausted,
I’m tapped out,
This game of life is using rules I don’t recognise,
Hands growing aches aplenty,
Card upon card ripped from my deck,
And I struggle to draw the vigour,

Life has all the cards,
Counting down in blacks and reds,
No kings and queens to be found,
Yet I still go digging for diamonds,
Beaten down by wicked clubs,
Only spades waiting for me at the end,
Hearts in my pupils as the lights fade,
No ace up these sleeves.